EDWARD WOKE up. Pia was already awake.
"What did you dream?"
"You were my brother," Pia said. "We were mak?ing a film. You were the hero. It was a e film. You had a cape and a sword. You were jump?ing about, jumping on tables. But in the sed half of the film you had lost all your weight. You were thin. The film was ruihe parts didnt match."
"I was your brother?"
Scarlatti from the radio. It was Sunday. Pete sat at the breakfast table. Pete was a doctor on an Ameriuclear submarine, a psychiatrist. He had just e off patrol, fifty-eight days uhe water. Pia gave Pete scrambled eggs with mush?rooms, wienerbrod, salami with red wine in it, ba. Pete interpreted Pias dream.
"Edward was your brother?"
"Yes."
"And your real brother is going to Italy, you said."
"Yes."
"It may be something as simple as a desire to travel."
Edward and Pia ae went for a boat ride, a tour of the hagen harbor. The boat held one hundred and twenty tourists. They sat, four tour?ists abreast, oher side of the aisle. A guide spoke into a microphone in Danish, French, Ger?man, and English, telling the tourists what was in the harbor.
"I interpreted that dream very sketchily," Pete said to Edward.
"Yes."
"I could have done a lot more with it."
"Dont."
"This is the Danish submarine fleet," the guide said into the microphone. Edward and Pia ae regarded the four black submarihere had been a flick every night oes submarine. Pete discussed the fifty-eight flicks he had seee sat on Edwards couch discussing "The Sound of Music." Edward made drinks. Roses Lime Juice fell into the Gimlet glasses. Then Edward and Pia took Pete to the airport. Pete flew away. Edward bought The Interpretation of Dreams.
Pia dreamed that she had jouro a great house, a castle, to sing. She had found herself a bed in a room overlooking elaborate gardens. Then anirl appeared, a childhood friend. The new girl demanded Pias bed. Pia refused. The irl insisted. Pia refused. The irl began to sing. She sang horribly. Pia asked her to stop. Other singers appeared, demanding that Pia sur?rehe bed. Pia refused. People stood about the bed, shouting and singing.
Edward smoked a cigar. "Why didnt you just give her the bed?"
"My honor would be hurt," Pia said. "You know, that girl is not like that. Really she is very quiet and not asserting -- asserting? -- asserting herself. My mother said I should be more like her."
"The dream was saying that your mother was wrong about this girl?"
"Perhaps."
"What else?"
"I t remember."
"Did you sing?"
"I t remember," Pia said.
Pias brother Soren rang the doorbell. He was carrying a pair of trousers. Pia sewed up a split in the seat. Edward made instant coffee. Pia explained blufaerdighedskraenkelse. "If you walk with your trousers open," she said. Save Edward and Pia "The Joan Baez Songbook." "It is a very good one," he said in English. The doorbell rang. It ias father. He was carrying a pair of shoes Pia had left at the farm. Edward made more coffee. Pia sat on the floor cutting a dress out of blue, red, and green cloth. Ole arrived. He was carrying his guitar. He began to play something from "The Joan Baez Songbook." Edward regarded Oles Mowgli hair. We be of one blood, thee and I. Ed?ward read The Interpretation of Dreams. "In cases where not my ego but only a strange person ap?pears in the dream-tent, I may safely assume